The Sail Weaver (13 page)

“I’m impressed,” Tristan said wryly. “I don’t feel bad at all.”

“I am used to a certain lifestyle, I know I can’t always maintain it, I do have to go out in the field now and then, but that doesn’t mean if I have the chance to take luxury with me I’ll pass it up.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me.” Tristan laughed.

When they reached the docks, Fenfyr was still stretched out, his eyes turned towards the corridor that led into the shopping district. He raised his head when Tristan and Muher walked out. The dragon stood and stretched, then fluffed his feathers before heading to the Dragon’s Portal. “I’ll see you for the sailing.” He gently touched Tristan with his head tufts, then hopped up through the portal.

“Almost time,” Muher said.

“Yeah,” Tristan said, swallowing nervously.

The ship was set to sail at eight bells in the afternoon watch. The crew was assembled on the ship, ready to lower the sails. Tristan stepped out on the quarterdeck and slipped the Elemental Interface into its pedestal. The lights hummed to life and when he laid his hand on it, he could feel the power of the sails connecting to the Interface.

The hiss of the atmospherics was all around him as the dome’s massive metal shields dropped and the
Winged Victory
was free to her first gentle touch of the stars. Tristan stood on the quarterdeck as the call went out to the ships gathered around them and the escort moved away from Terra Secundus, smaller ships and dragons winging ahead and around them. With a soft sound the engines began to hum and the ship came to life.
Winged Victory
edged away from the dock, the propulsion system pushing it slowly forward, moving them towards the vast expanse in front of them. Fireworks exploded overhead, their bright sparks blending with the stars around them, the lights slowly dying as the ship slipped further away.

Tristan was aware of the activity around him, the crew moving up into the spider webs of rigging over his head as they prepared to drop the sails for the first time, the officers watching them nervously, wondering if the magic was right and the massive sails would fly—If the dream of
Winged Victory
would become a graceful reality. Tristan held his breath, not wanting to show the uneasiness that was thrumming though his body. If the sails refused to catch the Winds—then what?

A soft rustle of sound shimmered down from high up in the masts. Glancing up, he saw Fenfyr settle onto his place in the tops of the mainmast, his great silver, ebony and pearl wings canted to catch the first whisper of the Winds. His head was up, tasting the air as he, too, waited for the moment.

“Loose the sails!” the captain ordered.

First the royals, then the topgallants dropped into place, the first small puff of the Winds fluttering through them, making the willowisps sparkle. Tristan stood transfixed for a moment as the sails glittered with soft waves of light, the glow reflecting on the faces of the crew hundreds of feet above him. Knowing the moment was quickly approaching, he concentrated and focused, placing both hands on the Elemental Interface, the black stone warm in the center of the silver wood. He softly recited the first of the spell and felt the answering hush in the sails as they readied themselves for their first flight.

“Loose the mainsail,” the captain called and the sail rolled into place, slack, the tiny movements lost in the vast expanse of the mainsail.

“Ship to the Weaver!” the captain snapped.

“Ship to the Weaver!” The order echoed down the decks and slithered up the masts to whisper there for a moment before
Fenfyr’s
confident “Ship to the Weaver!” dropped back down to settle on the quarterdeck.

“The ship is yours, sir,” Barrett said.

“Thank you, Mr. Barrett,” Tristan said crisply.

“Weaver has the ship!”

Tristan closed his eyes and began the final part of the spell, the words building around him. The Interface began to tremble under his hand as it focused the magic and guided it outwards. He felt the whisper of the Winds now, their breath pressing against him as he reached out and let the magic go. He knew the instant the sails caught, the great boom of the massive mainsail snapping into place resonating through him. The rigging was beginning to sing as the Winds found them, the pitch changing as the Winds increased until the sails filled with them and the huge ship began to pick up speed, the mainsail taut as the ship wheeled and slid into the center of the channel leaving Terra Secundus far behind them in seconds.

xIII

There was a soft hum in the rigging as the ship wheeled through space, the tone like a baritone singing softly in the distance. The sails were sparkling as the willowisps moved through the Weaving, a continual movement to catch each tiny whisper of the Winds to use them to their best advantage. After the exit from space dock, most of the sails had been furled, the Winds were heavy between Saturn and the outer planets and only the large sails were in use. Further out they would need the topgallants and perhaps even the royals, but for now Tristan could retire to his quarters and take a break. He would be required on deck to check the sails again at the changing of the watch, but all was well at this point and he was ready to sit down.

The ship had pulled away from Terra Secundus a full watch—four hours—before, and Tristan had stayed on deck as they had adjusted the sails to
suit the ship. He made sure
as each set
of smaller sails were furled
they were tucked in correctly, so they could wait patiently until they were needed. That was his excuse at least. He was caught up in the excitement of the sailing of
Winged Victory.
The escorting ships had peeled away about an hour after launch, but even now a few of the dragons circled the
Victory,
swinging around her in playful arcs. Tristan could see Fenfyr and Taminick, as well as a few dragons he didn’t know by name. The group with Fenfyr, though playful, seemed to have more purpose than the other dragons, and
they swept closer to the hull on their passes than the others. He meant to ask Fenfyr about it later, but for now, he needed to get ready for dinner. He’d invited the Air Weavers and several of the officers and wanted to make sure everything was ready.

“Riggan?” he said as he entered the cabin—then stopped dead, the table was set in the center of the room, silver and crystal shining in the soft lighting.

“Sir?” Riggan appeared from behind him.

“I was about to tell you that we needed to get ready for dinner.”

“Way ahead of you, sir,” the man said with a grin. “It was the Air Weavers, Mr. Barrett, General Muher, Colonel Hall and Mr. Aubrey, yes?”

“Yes.” Tristan grinned. “I shouldn’t have worried.” He sighed and dropped into one of the comfortable chairs by the stern gallery windows.

“The ship is sailing well, sir,” Riggan said, bringing him a cup of tea. “They’re saying below decks, you’ve lifted the curse that was following us. Some say at least, others aren’t as sure, but they said they would be willing to wait and give it a chance before deciding.”

“Kind of them,” Tristan replied with a wry smile.

“They’ve noticed the dragons and wonder what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, sir, usually dragons don’t fly with a ship this long, they head back to their own ships or business as soon as they can. No one is sure why they are with us so long.”

Tristan eyed the man seriously. “
Winged Victory
is a special ship, maybe that’s why? The biggest yet?”

“That could be it, no one was expecting Darius to come to the launching, and there he was, flying alongside us! I can tell you, that set a few tongues wagging.”

“He was flying with us?” Tristan asked, he was surprised, he knew the dragon had been there for the launch, but he hadn’t expected him to fly with the ship. “I didn’t see him once we were moving.”

“You were a little preoccupied, sir, it was to be expected,” Riggan laughed. “I saw him, though. I remember him from the
Jupiter
Incursion. A fierce fighter. They are such wonderful creatures, then when you see them fight—I just can’t describe it! It’s
amazing. When I was a lad, on one of m
y first voyages, we ran across
some pirates which were using a Vermin ship—horrible, I have no idea how humans could do that, but they did—and the dragon swept in, killed the ship humanely, then tore it apart with her claws, including the humans that were stupid enough to still be on board. I think they all should have died, for a crime like that, but those that got off the ship were sentenced to hard labor in the Mines.” Riggan shook his head. “Horrible things, those Vermin ships, sir. The dragon, she found the Rogue Weaver and, well
,
he met an unfortunate end as her dinner, I believe, and more power to her is all I have to say.” He refilled Tristan’s cup. “Ever since then, I wait for them to come, to watch them end those poor ships
’
anguish and then destroy those that fly them. I think the humans that use Vermin ships are worse than the Vermin themselves, humans doing that. And that’s all I have to say about it.”

Tristan grinned. “Oh?”

“Yes, sir, I do. I won’t say more, but the Weavers that fly for the pirates are no better than pirates and Vermin themselves.” He refreshed Tristan’s cup again, then smiled. “Dinner is in fifteen minutes if you wish to change, sir.”

Pushing himself out of the chair, Tristan went into his bedchamber and changed into his formal uniform, carefully tying the cravat then running a finger under it to relieve the sense of being choked. After a quick check in the mirror, he went back into the main room. Riggan was waiting by the door, in his formal uniform as well. Tristan noticed that he had the bar and dragons that indicated he was in service to the Guild pinned proudly to his uniform.

At the soft tap on the door, Riggan opened it. “Mr. Barrett, First Officer, sir,” he announced formally.

“Thank you, Riggan,” Tristan said, hiding a smile as he stepped forward and shook the officer’s hand. “Everything set topside?”

“When I left it was, the captain is still pacing, but he usually does until he turns in,” Barrett replied, grinning. The fact the captain had not been invited had spread through the ship like wildfire.

“The Air Weavers, Theresa, Sullivan, Sheea and West Aether,” Riggan said.

Tristan ushered them into the room and over to the sideboard where a bottle of wine was waiting. It was from his private reserve,
and until he’d discovered that Barrett’s family were vintners he’d been rather proud of his selections. Now he wai
ted anxiously as the first o
fficer went through the ritual of tasting the wine. Tristan let out the breath he was holding when Barrett smiled. Muher, Aubrey and Hall arrived together soon after and they all sat down as Riggan and the other servants served the first course.

As Tristan watched the servants, he marveled at Riggan
. T
he man had arranged the entire thing with no more than a word from him—just the information he was having the Air Weavers and several officers to dinner, and the man had produced this. No discussion of menu, or even of other servants to keep the glasses full and the food coming and going from the galley. He was beginning to realize that Riggan was worth far more than he’d assumed.

“Guild and Dragon,” Tristan raised his glass in the traditional toast; even though there were Naval officers present, it was his table.

“Guild and Dragon,” the others replied.

“How are you?” he asked Theresa as they set the cups down.

“I’m doing much better, Master Tristan, thank you. I was on deck for the launch.” She laughed, a bright and happy sound like tiny bells. “Of course, I would have dragged myself up there if I had been on my death bed.”

“It was something to see!” Hall agreed. “I’ve been on many ships, but there is something about that mainmast, it’s so massive it takes my breath away every time I see it.”

“We try and prevent that!” West said with a laugh.

“Touché, Aether,” Hall said, laughing. “Still, it was a magnificent launch. Do you know why the dragons are still with us?” This was directed to Muher.

“No, they haven’t informed me. I expected most of them to turn back hours ago. Of course, Fenfyr is flying with us, but the others, I am surprised about myself,” the general said.

Tristan looked at the man, wondering if he was lying. The Dragon Corps was there for many reasons, and he suspected at least one of them had to do with why Taminick was still flying with them.

“No shop talk,” Aubrey said, taking another drink. “Once we clear the system, we won’t have nearly enough time for long dinners, we should relax and enjoy.”

“You’re right,” Barrett agreed readily.

The talk turned from the ship to events on
Earth
. With the exception of Barrett, the officers and Air Weavers had been isolated for several months, and Muher spent fifteen minutes bringing them up-to-date on the latest sports scores. Barrett was an avid lacrosse and curling fan, and Tristan listened in growing amazement as Muher and Barrett discussed the curling championships. He’d watched the game several times and had no idea it was so intricate or required quite as much skill as it seemed to. Aubrey and Hall shared Barrett’s love of lacrosse, and so for half an hour the table was filled with sports talk. After that it turned to the latest movement to expand the Dragon Sanctuaries. There was a brief lull as the main dish was served, then they started chatting again.

It was while dessert was being served that Fenfyr decided to make his grand entrance. A tiny tap on the stern gallery door, Riggan paused as the air pressure was balanced by the Air Weavers
on deck and answered the door.
“
Lokey
Fenfyr
of the Guild Dragons.” Fenfyr stuck his head in and grinned at them all. There was a soft
whoosh
as he adjusted to the atmosphere. “Can I get you a grapefruit, sir? I put some by this afternoon.”

Fenfyr huffed happily as Riggan brought him the fruit. Tristan sighed, he would have to talk to the dragon about dramatic entrances. Poor Aubrey looked like he was ready to faint, and Hall was pale as well. Without a word Fenfyr munched on a grapefruit, looking at the table expectantly.

“Did you have a good launching, sir?” Barrett ventured after a moment of silence increasingly filled with the scent of grapefruit.

Fenfyr made a happy sound and nodded. “We enjoyed it,” he said.

“Good gad!” Aubrey exclaimed and went another shade paler, then blushed. “Sorry, sirs, I’ve never been to dinner with a dragon, sir.”

“You’ll have to excuse his table manners,” Tristan said with a laugh.

“Tables,” Fenfyr huffed in derision.

There was another moment of silence, then Riggan brought out the dessert wine and Barrett started chatting about his family’s vineyard. Tristan knew Fenfyr was looking over the officers and Air Weavers, and he had a feeling the dragon was looking forward to
giving him a full report of the launch, knowing that Tristan had been caught up in the spell and unaware of a lot of the action. After they had finished dessert, the others lingered for another glass of wine, but then Hall and Aubrey left, followed by Muher and the Air Weavers. Tristan found himself alone at the table with Barrett.

“Another glass?” he asked the officer.

“Thank you, Master Tristan.” Barrett held his glass out.

Tristan poured. “Tristan,” he said, offering the informality.

“Thom,” Barrett replied with a smile.

“Fenfyr,” the dragon said with a chuckle, his head tufts quivering happily. “We’ve been busy.”

“What?” Tristan asked.

“Taminick and I, we’ve been checking things, and there is something wrong. We just can’t be sure what. The other dragons could sense it. She said she will be coming in close to look again, and expects to be let onboard when she asks. Apparently, she was refused,” the dragon said, the horror in his voice only partially feigned.

“What’s going on?” Thom asked.

“We don’t know, that’s the thing,” Fenfyr answered.

“The dragons and Guild have received unsettling intelligence about the ship.”

“What?!?
My ship?!?
What have they done?” the first officer demanded, his face turning red.

“We’re not sure. We are still checking,” Fenfyr said. “But there is something up, and it stinks like day-old fish.”

“Whatever help you need, let me know. How dare they touch my ship!”

“Your ship?” the dragon asked.

“Thom designed her,” Tristan said.

“Ah, do you know what the bottom deck is? And why the hatch is soldered shut?” Fenfyr asked.

“No, I had nothing to do with it. I was told it was designed for cargo and extra supplies. I have no idea why it’s soldered closed. I asked Stemmer and he said it wasn’t in use for this flight and they were just cutting off the need for
atmo
on that level. It’s a good excuse, I just don’t buy it.”

“Neither do we. Taminick is quite anxious to get in there.”

“Who is Taminick?” Thom asked, looking from Fenfyr to Tristan.

“She’s the red dragon that’s been flying with Fenfyr. She’s with… with the dragon equivalent of the intelligence service.”

“Black ops,” Fenfyr said. “You never even saw her.” He burst out laughing, blasting them both with grapefruit-scented breath. “Seriously, though, she is one of our top intelligence agents, and a bit of a wild one, she specializes in finding and killing Vermin technology.”